


It Takes All Kinds

by karrenia_rune



Category: Frasier (TV)
Genre: Dinner, F/M, Hijinks & Shenanigans, New Year's Resolutions, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 15:05:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daphne and Niles are invited to a high society dinner party whose highlight is a séance conducted by their hostess, but not all is at it  appears and hjinks and misunderstandings ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Takes All Kinds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nomad (nomadicwriter)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomadicwriter/gifts).



Disclaimer: Frasier is an American sitcom that was broadcast on NBC for eleven seasons from September 16, 1993, to May 13, 2004. The program was created and produced by David Angell, Peter Casey, and David Lee (as Grub Street Productions) in association with Grammnet (2004) and Paramount Network Television. It is not mine and I am only 'borrowing it' for the purposes of the story. George the Butler, Mrs. Barrows and the Thorntons and the Smiths are my own creation. Written for Nomad's request from Yuletide 2013. It's my first time dipping into this particular fandom so I hope it serves! 

 

"It Takes All Kinds" by Karrenia

Their taxi driver maneuvered through the electronic gate, and down the graveled drive, Daphne could not help but wonder if by chance there might have been some mistake made when they got an invite to tonight's soiree. 

Still, it was a bit late to worry about such things. The best thing to do was take events as they came. She turned to Niles who was nervously tweaking the lay of his tie, then she reached over and took his hand in her own. 

“Relax, it's just a dinner party. How bad could it be?”

The taxi ride soon ended and they got out and paid the fare, walking up to the main entrance with a door-pull shaped into the form of bronze lion's head. 

The butler who answered the door was every bit the image of the impeccable discrete and urbane, tall, but not overly so, sleek baked dark hair, and brown eyes with a hooked nose and an accent that Daphne would have placed as hailing as being from Yorkshire, or maybe Leeds.

“Niles Crane, and guest,” he greeted them, welcome, please follow me in and shall escort you to the reception hall. If you would care to remove your wraps, there is a cloak room off to the side of the main door.”

“Thank you, that would be lovely,” replied Daphne with a smile as she crossed the threshold with Niles quickly following along in her wake. She glanced around and saw that the cloak room that the butler had mentioned was just to the left of the wide double doors and she briskly walked to it and removed her scarf, and gloves, and the light jacket she had been wearing in the brisk spring winds. Niles had not worn his jacket and waited for her to finish.

“What is your name, good man?” he asked the butler.”

“George, Sir,” replied the older man. “If the madame is ready, we will adjoin to parlor.”

“Lead on, then,” Daphne said, taking Niles' arm and they quickly walked the length of the hall and past several doors that must lead to other rooms in the house. 

Daphne considered herself a good judge of interior decoration and it seemed to her eye as if the owners of this mansion had either just come into money via an inheritance of rich but eccentric relatives because the place appeared to have been decorated to reflect the 50's era, with somber burgundy, brown and gray colors, mahogany wall panelings and here and there busts of ancient philosophers resting on shelves and end tables. 

The parlor was an improvement over the unprepossessing hallway, here the color scheme was green and gold with a roaring fire place and chaise lounge chairs and a green and gold sofa. The guests, two more couples turned to regard the new arrivals with mingled expressions.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” announced George the butler, “May I present the last of our guests, Mr. Niles Crane and Daphne Moon. I will leave to get acquainted and dinner will be served in forty five minutes.” With that he turned around and left the reception parlor.

Niles cleared his throat. “Well, then, here we all are then. I am Dr. Niles Crane, and I specialize in clinical psychological analysis. And this is Daphne Moon, my finance.”

“You're a shrink?” asked one of the men who wore his suit, a black and gray three-piece pin-strip with a mauve tie, who was seated beside a young blonde woman with piercing ice blue eyes and a merino wool sweater. 

“Why, yes, yes I am. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?” asked Niles.

“William Thornton, Esquire, of the Finch, Merry weather, and Granger Law Firm, and this is my wife, Millie.”

“Pleased to meet you both,” Niles replied.

The only other couple who had not turned when they came in were drinking champagne by the side-bar and finally came over and joined the others in the center of the room. “You're engaged, Mr. Crane?” the man remarked.

“How wonderful, dear,” the woman replied, taking Daphne's hand in her own, managing adroitly despite the fact that she still held her champagne flute in her other hand. “I am so happy for you.”

“Cynthia!” her husband griped.

“Don't be such a fuddy-duddy, Roger, dear,” chided the woman called Cynthia, “Surely, you remember what it was like to be young and in love. I wish you both well.”

Daphne flushed and than smiled and “Thank you.” You have the advantage of me...

“Cynthia and Roger Smith,” the older man replied.

A gong tolled out and George the butler appeared once more at the door to the lounge. 

“Ah, dinner is served.”

 

**  
The dining room was small and intimate and the place settings were blue and white. Again, Daphne had to wonder who had been responsible for the choices in decorating and sundry furnishings. The Thor tons had been placed across from her and Niles and Cynthia and Roger Smith seated to either side of the Thorntons.

Daphne leaned over and whispered, “Strange place, somehow this is not all what I was expecting.”

“Me either,”whispered Niles back to her. Just then his cell phone rang, and her grinned sheepishly at her, “Sorry, I have to take this.”

So saying he got up and walked off to one side, “Crane. Yes, this is he. Maris! Yes, no, I don't think this is a good time to talk. Calm down! I can barely understand you. You want to know why I have not returned your calls..

He paused as he listened to his ex-wife's end of the conversation.

“Well, it's because you call so frequently that it would simply be counter-productive to do so and at the moment I am about to sit down to supper. Yes, Yes. I will call you back later. Goodbye.”

Niles snapped shut his cell phone with a resounding click and placed back in the pocket of his jacket, then walked back to the dining room table and sat down. Daphne, who had been trying not to eavesdrop on Niles' end of the telephone conversation, narrowed her eyes. “Who was that?”

“Please, Daphne,” Niles sighed. “It was Maris. It has become simply impossible for that woman to take no for an answer.”

“I know, I know, but she has the intolerable habit of cropping up at the most inconvenient of times,” Daphne said.

“We'll discuss this later,” he replied.

“Trouble in paradise,” Cynthia asked innocently.

“Nothing we can't handle,” Daphne replied evenly.

At the moment further conversation was forestalled because the servants had arrived bearing trays with soup and salad bowls and began to serve the dinner. George, who stood off to one corner inspecting the proceedings with a steely eye and a thin lip, seemed to find it good.

“So, you're a lawyer, Mr. Thornton? Are you general practice or do you have a certain specialty area,” asked Daphne.

“I'm a corporate trial lawyer,” replied Mr. Thornton

“Oh, then, I should think you would never lack for clients,” Daphne remarked cheerfully, 

“No, indeed not,” said Millie Thornton as she idly stirred the contents of her soup and carefully cut off the crusts of her cucumber and feta cheese sandwiches in a manner that resembled eating.

“Shouldn't we wait for our hosts to join us for dinner?” Roger asked.

“Mr. and Mrs. Barrows have already eaten, but please, enjoy,” replied George the butler, “e

“Have your even been to the theater, or the opera. We attend various performances frequently,” said Daphne.

“I would like to go, I think,” mused William Thornton, because I think it is good to encourage the arts and drama culture in our city. You know how it is, I'm working sixty to seventy hours a week. I simply don't have the time.”

Roger spoke up. “What's playing right now?”

“Death of a Salesman,” Niles replied.

“Seems a bit bleak,” Mrs. Thornton remarked, around a mouthful of kale and onions. 

“On the contrary, said Niles said energetically, never one to let an opportunity to wax poetic over the classics of stage and screen, said, it's one of the most enduring and popular plays of all time.”

“I guess, we shall have to take your word for that, Mr. Crane,” said Millie Thornton.”

The butler came in just then and announced that the night's main event would begin promptly at 8:30 pm, and would they all be so good as to join their hosts in the living room.

 

**  
The séance

The living room decoration was on the similar somber hues as the hall way, and was quite large with French double doors fronting onto a walk-out patio, and sofas and love seats scattered here and there, but someone, presumably the butler or his assistants had pushed them way from the center of the room so that a card table draped in heavy purple velvet could take center stage. The chairs gathered around the table were theirs and so each of the guests took a seat.

On the table were three candles and a plate of vanilla wafers and a pitcher of water.

“Welcome, welcome, one and all I am Mrs. Barrows, and I beg your indulgence for not greeting your personally earlier but I had to make my preparations for tonight's main event.”

“Quite all right,” rumbled Roger.

“I find it a touch gauche,” Cynthia Smith remarked under her breath.

“As you may or may not know, summoning folks from the spirit world can be quite taxing, so I will need you all to concentrate,” said Mrs. Barrows. “I want everyone to lean forward and hold hands with the person to either side of you.”

“Do you believe in ghosts, Miss Moon?” asked William Thornton as he took his wife's hand in his left and Daphne's in his right. Niles took Millie and Roger's hand and the circle was joined.

“No, not really,” Daphne replied. “But whom am I to say what may or may not exist beyond. In some cultures I've read about they believe that ghosts or phantasms are restless spirits who can't move on because of unfinished business in their earthly life.”

“I suppose that's one interpretation, “Millie Thornton replied.

Just then Mrs Barrows' demeanor changed as she became quite serious in getting on with the business of the seance, chanting,”Spirits of the past, move among us. Be guided by the light of this world and visit upon us. Beloved Amelia we bring you gifts from life into death. Be guided by the light of this world and visit upon us." 

 

“Amelia, if this is you, please give us a sign of your presence, rap once for yes and twice for no.”

A corresponding dull thud echoed from the metal card table echoed in the now hushed room.

“Ah, Amelia, your family has missed you ever so much.” 

“This is your daughter Agnes, and we beg your indulgence for there are unanswered questions surrounding the circumstances of your tragic death.”

Without warning the French double doors blew inward as if forced from without by a tremendous gust of wind and a spectral figure clad in white gauzy silk and lace appeared, looking pale and tragic, she came closer to where the living sat around the table.

The nearer she came the lower the ambient temperature drooped in the living room. The white gauze silk dress appeared to be stained in various places with dark splotches that looked like dirt and blood, and a knife was clutched in one hand.

Mrs. Barrows began with her questions. “Do you have unfinished business with the living?”

Another single rap sounded on the table.

“Can you identify the person who caused your untimely demise

There was a distinct pause between question and answer this time and then a very hesitant single rap sounded. 

“Is that person present in this room?”

Two raps answered Agnes' question.

“Do you the whereabouts of your last will and testaments?” asked Mrs. Barrows.

A single rap sounded on the table.

“Is it on the estate?” One rap came.

“Is it in the attic? Two raps answered the question.

“In the carriage house?” Again another two raps.

“I think I've had about enough of this,” griped William Thornton.

A sudden gust of wind blow out the candles and they were left in the twilight darkness of late evening. 

“Patience and calm everyone, the séance is almost complete. One last question, then. Is the will in the gardener’s shed?” One rap and then the spirit vanished from view.

“Thanks to the spirit of our dear departed, Amelia Caruthers,” said Mrs. Barrows. At long last they mystery that so beguiled all of us is laid to rest.”

“Are we done here?” asked Roger Smith.

In a much more steelier tone than the one Mrs. Barrows had been using during the séance ceremony she replied, “Rather gauche yourself Mrs. Smith, but in a word, yes, we're done here.”

“Thank goodness that's over, said William Thornton, “I don't know about the rest of you, but I could use a drink, if that's all right with you, Mrs. Barrows?”

“Quite all right, Mr. Thornton,” replied Mrs. Barrows briskly, gliding over to a screen and pulling on a velvet rope pull, she said, “George, brandys all around, if you please.” tinny with distance the voice of George the Butler replied, “Yes, Ma'am. Coming right up.

George arrived with the brandy in short tumbler glasses arranged on a silver tray and then served them, while they settled down on the sofas or stood, no one really felt like indulging in idle chatter so there followed an awkward silence.

Mrs. Barrows finally broke the silence. “I thank you all for coming tonight, you must you that I may have put some of you out, but it was necessary.”

“Quite all right,” said Niles politely.

“Yes, quite, “Daphne echoed.

“Thank you,” replied Mrs. Barrows. I'm afraid that I will have to bid you all a good evening, the séance took more out of me than I had anticipated, so, I will retire for the night.”

“Good night, then,” said Millie Thornton.

As she left the living room Mrs. Barrows called back over her shoulder, “Finish your drinks and when you are ready to live just call on George to show you out. Thank you again for coming tonight.”

 

Aftermath/Conclusion

During the taxi ride home Niles leaned over and gave Daphne a quick squeeze of his hand and shuffled a bit near to her on the back seat. “I've been dying to know... Okay, so maybe dying was not the best choice of words under the circumstances, but what did you make of all that séance business?”

Daphne returned the squeeze and then gazed off into the landscape of the Seattle streaking by in the windows of the taxi before she answered his question. 

“If this was about an unsolved murder, wouldn't it simply have been a simple matter for the family to go to the authorities?” she replied.

“I would think so, but the from what I understand the Barrows family have a long history of eccentricity and keeping to themselves. What I don't understand that if they were all that concerned about keeping the wherewithal of the distribution of the Amelia Caruther's estate in the daughter in law's family there must have been easier ways of going about it.

“You're right about that, Niles,” replied Daphne cheerfully, “But it wouldn't have been as much fun!”

“That's my girl!” Niles replied equally cheerfully. “Fun, but strange,' that about sums up our evening. Remind me to never again to accept an invitation to one of these things again.”

“Why not?” Daphne asked with a challenge sparkling in her eyes. “It certainly would be benefit us to broaden our horizons, every now and then.”

Niles nodded and then replied, “Perhaps, perhaps. I shall have to give it proper consideration.”


End file.
